


Deadeye: The Masked Vigilante

by muckkles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muckkles/pseuds/muckkles
Summary: Hanzo Shimada has escaped his dangerous yakuza upbringing to save his brother's life and give them both more honest opportunities in America. Unfortunately for him, the secret of who he is could not be kept for long and he now finds himself forced back into a life of crime, running errands for local gangs just so they'll keep their mouths shut as to his and his brother's whereabouts. Things get even hairier as the city's superhero Deadeye starts getting a bit too close for comfort. Can he keep his indiscretions hidden from the nosy vigilante? Can he keep his younger brother safe? Can he manage to keep it all a secret from his much too observant boyfriend, Jesse?Meanwhile, Jesse McCree is the secret identity of the famous (or to some, infamous) Deadeye. He is a small time journalist by day, and, with the help of his tech-savvy sister, a crime-fighting cowboy by night. Not that his boyfriend, Hanzo knows that. Can he single-handedly keep the city safe? Can he manage to keep separate what he knows about Hanzo as Deadeye versus what he knows about him as Jesse? Can he successfully keep his real identity a secret from Hanzo in the process?Find out in:Deadeye! The Masked Vigilante





	Deadeye: The Masked Vigilante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my friend Aero, tumblr user itsthighnoon, for initiating this AU and helping me flesh it out AND encouraging me to write this! I've had tons of fun talking about our many mchanzo AUs with them. Perhaps if this fic takes off I will write out some of our other ones.
> 
> I have three chapters of this written so far. The third one is almost entirely smut, hence the rating, and i can only apologize. I don't usually include that in my fics, but there's a first for everything! There probably won't be a regular posting schedule because I'm just doing this for fun so i don't wanna stick to deadlines and whatnot if i can help it and again, my apologies.
> 
> Anyways, i hope you enjoy and let me know what ya'll think!

It’s a warm October night when Hanzo slips through a door inside a decrepit three story building on the outer bounds of town. He hurries up a short flight of stairs, instinctively peering around corners and focusing on the dark nooks and crannies around him for any signs of life or traps. He can feel a bass beat vibrating through the floorboards and into the soles of his feet. Several dozen people are dancing and partying on the first floor. The noise from the rave will provide the perfect cover should anything unsavory happen on the floors above. Not that Hanzo is expecting anything to. This meeting will be routine.

He makes his way to the end of the hallway on the second floor landing and knocks twice on the last door on the left. Almost immediately the door whips open and a bald burly man stands in his path. He has face tattoos, faintly glowing orange in the low light. His clothing is casual; loose jeans and a white tank top, the chains around his neck and the gun at his hip his only accessories. The man only has an inch or two on Hanzo but that doesn’t stop him from smirking down at him condescendingly.  
Hanzo barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who are you? You got business here?” the man grunts.

“You know who I am and why I am here. Let me through, Andre,” Hanzo answers impatiently.

Andre raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, the picture of intimidation for anyone but the man who stands before him. He knows what Andre wants to hear: reaffirmation that the Los Muertos gang has the one and only Hanzo Shimada held tight under their thumb. Hanzo lets out a sharp breath through his nose in irritation.

“Shimada. I have a package for Miguel.”

“Now that’s more like it,” Andre replies. He moves aside to allow Hanzo to enter.

The room is empty save for a beat up sofa and two other men, Miguel and a man Hanzo doesn’t recognize, which means he is mostly likely expendable. He is also a threat considering the heavy sledgehammer draped over his shoulder. He’s tapping his fingers against the handle, most likely in an attempt to draw attention and intimidate, but Hanzo had long ago mastered the art of tuning out distractions in high pressure situations. He automatically catalogues possible escape routes. There’s a window on the far wall and another door along the left, as well as the one he had just walked through.

Hanzo does not waste any time. He steps forward and slips a paper wrapped parcel out of his messenger bag and hands it over to Miguel. Inside is $30,000, a month’s worth of drug money from the south side of the city that Miguel had sent him to fetch like a glorified gopher. At least it’s better than when he is forced to transport the drugs themselves.

Miguel makes a show of peeking into the package and flipping through a stack of bills before shoving the entire thing inside his jacket.

“Nice work, Shimada. Isn’t it great to feel useful?” Miguel prods. Hanzo narrows his eyes, fully aware that he is being provoked. He’s angry at himself that it’s working even just a small amount. These men are beneath him, yet they virtually hold his life in the palms of their hands. It’s infuriating.

He forces himself to push down his anger and responds in an even, measured tone, “If that will be all, I will take my leave now.”

“Hold your horses, I have something el-“ Miguel is cut off as a series of thumps and a loud grunt sound from behind the door along the left wall. Four sets of eyes flick over to stare at the door. “What the…“

The door flies open with a bang and a man steps into the room amidst a flurry of dust. He’s dressed in armor, mask, and cowboy boots. Two bodies are visible just behind him, lying on the ground presumably unconscious. The cowboy sticks his thumbs in his belt and his cheeks rise behind his ever-present serape, obviously grinning at the group of four men in front of him.

He speaks in a low southern drawl, “Well howdy. Hope you fellas don’t mind me droppin’ in.”

Hanzo knows this man. Everyone in the city knows him in fact, although Hanzo has personally had an up close encounter with him several weeks previously.

He is Deadeye, the masked vigilante.

There’s only a split second of hesitation before the man with the sledgehammer is rushing at Deadeye and swinging for his head. Deadeye gracefully steps aside at the last second and the man goes careening off course. His hammer smashes into the wall only a few feet away and Hanzo throws up his arms to protect himself from the debris. The cowboy takes the opportunity to throw his shoulder against the man’s back and sends him crashing through the already buckling wall. Hanzo lowers his arms to look up at Deadeye, who takes the time to wink at him before turning to face the remaining Los Muertos goons.

However, before any of them can even think of throwing a punch, the building shudders around them. Miguel and Andre look up at the ceiling as the dim overhead light flickers, showing off flashes of the gang members’ glow-in-the-dark tattoos. Hanzo whips his hand out to smack Deadeye’s arm.

“That was a load bearing wall, idiot!” he snaps.

He quickly pulls his arm back and flushes with embarrassment, realizing he has just chastised Deadeye, the Deadeye, as if he were nothing more than his careless younger brother. Fortunately the cowboy seems unfazed by the insult and merely laughs a little sheepishly as if to say ‘whoops, my bad.’

A loud crash indicates the floor above is beginning to cave in.

“Move!” Miguel sprints forward, shoving Hanzo out of the way and into Deadeye in the process as he makes a mad dash for the exit. Deadeye pulls out his revolver but hesitates and only watches as Andre sprints through the door after Miguel right before the frame collapses. Hanzo covers his mouth with his hand to avoid inhaling any more of the dust now filling the air. He looks up at the man he is leaning against and their eyes meet again. Then Deadeye is wrapping a firm arm around him and yanking him backwards.

“Looks like we’re takin’ a back exit darlin’,” he explains.

Hanzo doesn’t have time to protest, but if he is honest he doesn’t actually want to. The top floor is going to come down on them any second, so he doesn’t actually have much choice but to go along with whatever Deadeye’s plan of escape happens to be. He allows himself to be dragged across the room, watching the ceiling collapsing in front of them until suddenly his feet are lifted off the ground. Glass shatters behind them as Deadeye throws his back against the window and pulls Hanzo out after him, hugging him firmly to his chest as they go. They are airborne for no more than a second before landing unceremoniously in the dumpster in the alley just outside the building.

Hanzo blinks up at the dark sky above him. Immediately he takes a quick inventory: He feels minimal pain aside from what is surely going to be a bruise where his back landed on Deadeye’s armor, nothing is broken, and incredibly he even has no cuts or scrapes that he can tell. He would be able to run or fight if need be although he is still a little disoriented by the fall.

A hand patting his side reminds him to roll off of the man he has landed on. He watches Deadeye sit up and shake his head in silence. Miraculously, the serape and mask have both stayed in place, keeping the mystery of Deadeye’s secret identity intact. They help each other climb out of the dumpster while Hanzo keeps a wary eye on the building they have just jumped out of. It had only been three stories tall and the first story looks like it is holding for now, but you never know.

Hanzo bows briefly to the man in front of him and says, “Thank you for breaking my fall.” He probably would have thought to escape out of the window himself, and landed more gracefully at that, but he is grateful nonetheless.

Deadeye laughs and brushes dust and bits of trash from his thighs with quick swipes of his gloved hands. He then stands up straight and squints at Hanzo.

“Anytime. But, say friend you look awful familiar. Have we met?” he asks. His eyes are piercing and intelligent. He probably remembers though he is feigning forgetfulness.

Hanzo clears his throat, keeping an eye on both ends of the alley should the Los Muertos thugs decide to finish things outside, and replies anyway, “You have saved me once before.”

Raucous party goers are streaming down the sidewalk, presumably evacuating the building that almost collapsed on top of them. Hanzo and Deadeye are in enough shadow that they most likely will not be noticed by a bunch of drunk and drugged ravers, at least not immediately.

“Oh right, little under two months back,” Deadeye’s voice draws Hanzo’s eyes back to him. The cowboy nods as he remembers. “What were ya doin’ up there with Los Muertos? You don’t exactly look like one a them.”

Hanzo huffs, “I am not. I was at the party and went upstairs in search of a bathroom. I accidentally walked in on them.”

Hanzo watches the cowboy’s eyes move up and down his body, probably taking in his all black attire and the messenger bag still somehow hanging by his hip. Not exactly rave attire, but not completely far-fetched either. He hopes his piercings and undercut help sell the lie.

“Uh-huh... Wrong place, wrong time?”

“It seems so.”

Deadeye’s gaze drifts off of him and past Hanzo’s shoulder to the thinning crowds at the mouth of the alley.

“You live around here?” asks Deadeye. It sounds like an interrogation at this point.

“Close enough,” Hanzo says, keeping his answer purposefully cryptic. He is a private person by nature and even Deadeye doesn’t need to know the details of his life.

“Think you’ll be alright gettin’ home?”

It is impossible to accurately read Deadeye’s expression with the mask and serape covering the majority of his face but his concern seems genuine enough.

“I will be fine, thank you.”

“Okay then, darlin’,” Deadeye tips his hat in goodbye and takes a step backwards. “It’s been a pleasure. Keep outta trouble now, ya hear? If them fellas bother you again just holler.”

Hanzo’s frowns in confusion. “Shouldn’t you go after them now? They can’t have gotten far.”

“Oh I reckon I’ll be runnin’ into them again soon. See ya around.”

And with that Deadeye vanishes around the back of the building. Hanzo raises an eyebrow, wondering how Deadeye actually expects to know if and when he specifically is in trouble. He hesitates a second and then swiftly and quietly moves forward to peer around the corner where the cowboy had disappeared. He expects to see the other man’s back or at least a flash of red as he walks down another alley but he is already gone, not a spur in sight.

 

\-----

 

McCree drops his serape on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, shaking the dust out as he sheds the layers of his alter ego. He stretches his arms over his head and rolls his neck, getting out the cricks and cramps. He’s getting a little old to be jumping out of windows. It was worth it to save lives though. Well, one life in particular. The life of a very handsome man whose name he hadn’t remembered to ask for.

After a shower McCree sits down in front of his flat screen wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a towel around his neck to catch the water still dripping from his wet hair. The news plays quietly in the background as he checks the notifications on his phone and nurses a glass of bourbon. His sister and accomplice, Sombra, is getting on his ass for not only letting Miguel get away but also taking ‘unnecessary risks’ and blah blah blah. There’s a string of texts from her and he manages to send a brusque reply.  
  


**S:** u should have at least let some cameras get at u. they eat that shit up  
  
**J:** woulda got my angles all wrong  
  
**S:** all publicity is good publicity bro  
  
**J:** my pot belly aint  
  
**S:** sure  
**S:** howd the new translocator i gave u work out  
  
**J:** just as good as all the others som  
  
**S:** but this one is slightly less likely to splice ur little toe off  
  


McCree’s stares in mild alarm at his phone screen. He honestly can’t tell when Sombra is joking half of the time. Her inventions and computer skills have done nothing but help him thus far and they were family after all. If there were actual risks involved he’s relatively certain she would give him proper warning. Hopefully.  
  
  
**J** : wasnt aware that was a concern

 **S:** ;)  
**S:** hey ur bf is on tv btw  
**S:** channel 4  
  


Just as he receives her text, a voice on the local 11 o’clock news catches his attention.

“A witness says they saw you with Deadeye just after the building collapsed.”

McCree’s eyes are drawn to the T.V. and he sees the man he rescued onscreen. The subtitle declares him Hanzo Itō. At least he has a name for him now besides ‘handsome stranger.’ Hanzo seems mildly uncomfortable to have a camera in his face but he answers the reporter’s questions politely. McCree quickly turns the volume up to catch Hanzo’s next response.

“That is correct.”

“This is the second time that Deadeye has saved you as an individual isn’t that right Mr. Itō?”

“Yes.”  
  


**J:** he aint my boyfriend  
  
**S:** uh huh  
**S:** i think he likes u  
  


McCree rolls his eyes. Of course he is attracted to him, but it isn’t exactly feasible to date as his superhero persona.

“Some view Deadeye as a hero but many would consider him a dangerous vigilante. What are your thoughts on the matter given your personal interactions with the elusive masked cowboy?”

The reporter’s comments are pretty par for the course for McCree. It’s a good thing he doesn’t do this gig for praise. Hanzo is silent for a moment before responding.

"He is... reckless," He seems like he is lost in thought again for just a moment, contemplating his next words. "But twice now he has saved my life without even thinking about his own safety. I am glad he was there when he was.” At least someone appreciates him. A very attractive someone at that. McCree feels himself smiling at the screen. Hanzo continues, “But I hope he will try to be more careful. If Deadeye fell it would be a great loss for this entire city."

McCree takes a sip of his bourbon and chuckles.

“Don’t you worry yer pretty little head, darlin’. I’ll be just fine.”  
  


**S:** he def likes u  
  
**J:** go to bed som  
  
**S:** <3


End file.
